Chapter 110
Lady Luck: 8 Votes
Kestrel’s Lady Luck score has increased by 1 to a new value of 7
The hours of the night all blended together after a few hours and a few bottles, to the point where Kestrel didn’t remember much of what happened after each team shared their respective stories around the campfire. There was music and singing, laughing and dancing, and a whole lot of drinking, anything for the Gang to relax while they were free from the risks of the Law closing in on them. The day had been an almost unexpectedly perfect success, and in the face of such good fortune, it would be practically criminal to not celebrate their luck.
Kestrel, of course, being no stranger to hard alcohol and hard drinking, got the most out of her night. She put away a few bottles of whiskey, almost completely lost her sense of balance, puked once in the lake, and briefly found herself longing for the company of another warm body to share her bedroll for the night. Mare or stallion, it didn’t matter much to the outlaw, she just wanted somepony to push away that feeling of loneliness that oft reared its ugly head when the night was old and quiet and she’d had a few bottles of something to loosen herself up. But everypony in the Gang was like family to her, and instead she went to bed by herself, passing out the moment her head hit the pillow.
She awoke late the next morning, short of sleep and with a headache that made her immediately regret everything she’d done the night before. Even before she opened her eyes, Kestrel knew the entire day would be wasted trying to recover from the night before. When she finally did open her eyes, what she saw definitely didn’t help her sour mood.
“Please rouse yourself from your sleep,” Gizmo cheerfully requested, the metal mare practically looming over Kestrel’s sleeping mat. “It is currently five past nine in the morning. Wanderer informed me that you usually are awake by six most days. That means you are currently three hours and… six minutes past your alarm.”
Kestrel grumbled and rolled over, her wings pulling her hat down tight over her ears. “Go tell Wanderer he can shove it,” she groused into her pillow. “I’ll be up in five or ten.”
“Laziness is a vice and a sin,” Gizmo scolded her. “Proper ponies that contribute to society awake with the sun and drink responsibly once it sets. The wheels of industry do not slow for sloth.”
Kestrel glared at Gizmo with a bloodshot eye. “I’m glad your makers gave you their wonderful sense of ethics,” she said. “Now piss off ‘fore I shoot you.”
“My exoskeleton makes me resistant to most forms of impact damage,” Gizmo informed Kestrel, but the robot nevertheless dipped her head. “But I will obey your orders. I was created to be obedient and to serve.” And with that proclamation, the robot slowly pivoted about, the gears and sprockets in her legs clicking and whirring, and she took up a leisurely trot toward the other side of camp.
Kestrel could only watch her go and then rub her eyes. “Damn robot,” she muttered. “I’m half tempted to break you down for scrap.”
Still, she was awake now, and there wasn’t any sense in trying to go back to sleep. Gizmo was right that Kestrel had overslept; the outlaw liked to be up with the sun to make the most out of the daylight hours, and sleeping in even more would just further disrupt her sleep schedule, even if the prospect of more rest was tempting. So, rubbing at her eyes some more, Kestrel staggered to her hooves and shambled over to the lake to splash some water into her face.
With that jolt of cold water to her face getting some energy back into her tired limbs, Kestrel stretched this way and that before returning to the campfire, where Wanderer and Miss Irons were busy preparing the morning meal for the rest of the Gang, as well as Starlight and her crew. The equalists were mostly keeping to themselves for the morning, not that Kestrel minded; the last thing she wanted to do was try to hold conversation with ponies outside of her usual circle of acquantances, and doubly so when such conversation was likely to revolve around politics and ideology. No doubt Starlight would have a lot to say about the equalist cause after yesterday’s success; Kestrel just wanted to delay that conversation until her head stopped hurting and her liver felt less poisoned.
Instead, she sat down by the fire, sleepily waving a wing and suppressing a yawn as she greeted the Gang’s stand-in grandparents. Miss Irons simply scoffed and shook her head. “You’re not as young as you used to be, Kestrel. Best remember that.”
“I might not live another fifty years anyway, if the Pinks get ahold of me,” Kestrel retorted. “Might as well make up for all that lost time by drinkin’ much as I can now.”
Wanderer lightly chuckled. “Enjoy yourself while you’re still young, Kessie. Life’s too short to waste time worrying about the future.”
“That, I can agree with.” Kestrel took out a cigarette and lit it, figuring she might as well double her vices while she was at it. “No idea what’ll get me first, though; drinking, or a bullet.”
“If the drink kills you, then I’d say it’s a life well lived.” Wanderer folded the omelette cooking in the pan and slid it onto a tin plate, which Miss Irons then passed to Kestrel. “But drink isn’t a substitute for good cooking. You’ll feel better with something more solid in you.”
Kestrel happily took the offered plate and leaned back some on her seat. “Ain’t that the truth,” she mumbled in agreement before she shoveled the omelette into her mouth. It disappeared all too quickly, but at least it helped block out the sour feeling sitting in her gut. At least she could always count on Wanderer’s cooking to help her feel better after a long night of drinking.
A few shouts and curses coming from Tumbleweed’s tent took Kestrel’s attention, and she looked over to see Gizmo fleeing as quickly as the robot could with Tumbleweed staggering after it, revolver drawn in his magic. Judging by the dark rings under his eyes, Kestrel concluded that Gizmo must have given him the same wakeup call that the robot had given her, and shook her head. “We gotta reprogram that thing or somethin’,” Kestrel said to Wanderer. “Somepony’s gonna shoot her soon.”
Wanderer merely held a sly smirk on his muzzle. “I’ll consider bringing it up with her. She only does things on my orders since Applejack made me her master, anyway.”
Kestrel shifted her attention to Wanderer and glared. “So you’re the one makin’ her go ‘round and bother the rest of us?”
“I was just waking up as the rest of you were going to bed,” Wanderer said. “You young whippersnappers are wasting valuable daylight.”
Tumbleweed, seeing no point in going back to sleep, decided to wander over and join the rest of them by the campfire, as well as get an omelette in him. “That damn robot,” Tumbleweed said, taking the offered plate and beginning to poke at the food with a fork. “I can’t wait ‘til we smash it and make some money offa its pieces. If we gotta deal with that thing wanderin’ ‘round camp, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to tolerate it.”
“I think she’s very helpful,” Miss Irons said. “Wanderer asked her to go get more water from the lake, and she did so without complaint, and much faster than the rest of us could, going bucket by bucket. I intend to see what else she can do to help us with around camp.”
“It’d be a shame to get rid of such a marvel of engineering,” Wanderer agreed. “Especially considering we can probably find a use for her. Besides, even if we did decide to turn her into bits, it’d be a while before we can get anything out of her. We’d have to move towns and sell her piecemeal to sompony who isn’t going to ask questions, and it’s not like we could sell her back to the Apple Conglomerates with their ransom for Applejack. They were giving Gizmo away at an auction, which means they’re plenty capable of building more. They won’t be interested in buying back a novelty prototype.”
“I still think bits are the best way to go,” Tumbleweed said. “We have to take it apart now, ‘fore it screws us over one way or another. What ‘bout you, Kessie? You think that robot’s annoyin’ as all Tartarus?”
1. Find a way to turn Gizmo into bits. We could get a lot outta dismantlin’ this robot and sellin’ her piecemeal somewhere else. Not sure how much we could get outta her, but it’s gotta be a few thousand at least. I don’t think we’re gonna find many buyers for the fully assembled and functionin’ robot, though, since everypony’s probably gonna know soon that we stole her.
2. Let Gizmo join the Gang. Who knows what we could accomplish with a robot like Gizmo joinin’ us on our adventures? I bet we could find a way to use her for jobs or somethin’. Havin’ a nigh-indestructible robot with us could have its perks.
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I vote 2. If things go to plan, we’d have a “nigh-indestructible” robot on our side as cover or as a terminator. And if we can’t use it as a gun, as Miss Irons and Wanderer have pointed out, it’s a great help around camp.
Even if it doesn’t pan out great, we could still turn it into scrap for money later, no reason to set that in motion now when it could get more value for us by not being ripped apart.
Option 2, keep Gizmo. He would be very useful, and worse case scenario he could be a bullet shield.
Hmm. I didn't trust Gizmo before, but now I am uncertain. Gizmo appears to being helpful and doesn't seem to care that Gizmo was kidnapped so, let's go with it and take a shot. Option 2 it is. At the very least, they will have an amazing wagon puller.
Yes. Corrupt the robot into becoming a ROBOT OF CRIME. 2
2. Gizmo may be of utility use at base.
2
Gotta go for 2. Sure we're on a tight time limit, but there's still something to be said for long term benefit over short term gains. That said, we should probably more some more effort into keeping Wanderer safe now. No telling what Gizmo'll do if he dies in front of her.
2. R O B O T P O N E
2. YOU CANT KILL A MACHINE
2. Beep boop, son. Beep boop.
I'm going to say option 2. A little extra help around camp could free up another member to do something else, not to mention give Miss Irons and Wanderer a break. Plus, seeing how Gizmo is a robot, provisions, medicine, and ammo wouldn't be useful to her.
Option two ( 2 ). A tireless gang member to haul the wagon, or any loot too heavy to steal normally? Yes please! Just don't have her/him/it stop a train bare hooved.
One thing: Gizmo says impact resistant. Not impact proof. Which means if you hit it hard enough, it will still break. Let's just keep that in mind.
1. There could be a tracking device, or deep-rooted protocol not to break the law and or always obey the Conglomerate
Hah! Gizmo is fun.
Hah!
Teach the robot how to crime.
2! 2, so much.
Gizmo is cute and all (and it's funny seeing how the gang reacted to her in this chapter. Wanderer gets a taste of power too!), but nothing personnel kid to her, we already had a plan to sell her. Her crystal internals were supposed to fetch something pretty nice if I recall. Plus, as a prototype, there could have been some value in trying to sell her off to some business competitors possibly. Innovation is cutthroat after all.
1. Find a way to turn Gizmo into bits.
Option 2. Lets get some use out of Gizmo